Ben, Take One
by Wilusa
Summary: First of two short, very different 'Ben regains consciousness' fics.


DISCLAIMER: Carnivale and its canon characters are the property of HBO and the show's producers; no copyright infringement is intended.

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_Swastikas..._

"Ben?" A voice cut into his dream. "What did you say?"

Confused by the intrusion, he mumbled, "Swastikas." Apparently, he was saying it aloud for the second time. "Nazis...German army...on the march." He shuddered. "Crossin'...border..."

"Th-that sounds terrible," the woman's voice responded. "But you were just havin' a bad dream, sweetie. Nothin' to worry about. Germany has an army, but it ain't goin' nowhere. You relax now, rest."

"Yeah. Bad...dream." _But my dreams got a nasty way o' comin' true, down the road._

He wondered about the woman. _Where the hell am I? Can't seem to remember..._

His memory of the nightmare about Nazis was already fading. But he sensed that there had been other dreams as well. A jumble of them, in a troubled sleep that made it hard to recall what he'd last been doing in the waking world.

He struggled to open his eyes, finding the lids surprisingly heavy. By the time he'd raised them, he'd also succeeded in placing the woman's voice. "Ruthie?"

"Yes!" She was bending over him, her eyes alight. He was flat on his back in bed.

In _her_ bed? She was sitting on the edge, and she seemed to be fully dressed.

"Ruthie," he repeated slowly. "Where am I? What happened?"

Then, before she could speak, his memories came flooding back. "Oh my God. New Canaan! I killed Brother Justin...b-but...but...I was dyin'. Are you dead too? Both of us?" He felt tears well up in his eyes. He didn't want Ruthie to be dead!

"No, no, Ben." She smiled, but the hand that reached to smooth his hair was shaky. "You ain't dead. You were wounded, but you're doin' fine. Relax, don't worry.

"We brought you back to the carnival. You didn't come to right away, an' we put you in my trailer so you'd be comfortable an' I could watch over you. Everything's gonna be fine now - just take it easy. Are you in any pain?"

"I-I ain't sure." He knew that sounded dumb, but it was true. "I feel..._strange_. Weak, mostly." So weak that the few words he'd spoken left him exhausted, almost dizzy.

"You're weak 'cause you lost a lot o' blood," she explained.

"Yeah, I s'pose so." He could barely keep his eyes open. But tired as he was, he realized there was a question he had to ask. "Ruthie, why ain't the trailer movin'? We hafta get away from New Canaan!"

"It's all right," she told him. "You were out for a while. We _are_ a safe distance from New Canaan."

"Oh." That should have eased his anxiety, but it didn't. "I can't believe we ain't still in danger. The law may be after me for killin' Justin, an' his goons may want revenge on the whole carnival."

"There's been no sign o' anyone on our tail," Ruthie assured him. "All you should think about is restin' an' gettin' your strength back."

"No." By now he was thinking clearly - even if an attempt to raise his head was a total failure. "I gotta talk to Samson. Justin told me Sofie's dead. I gotta pass that on to Samson."

"I'll, uh, get word to him as soon as I can."

" 'Get word to him'? 'As soon as you can'?" Ben was bewildered. "Ruthie, we're stopped! The trucks ain't movin'! I want you to go get Samson. Bring him here so I can talk to him, _now_. Please!"

"I'm sorry, Ben." Shaking her head, she explained, "I promised him I wouldn't leave you alone."

"Shit. I ain't unconscious now," he argued. "I'll be okay. An' I sure as hell ain't goin' nowhere."

"I'm sorry, but I can't leave you. Gabe's just over in the chow tent. He'll be back soon, an' I'll send him to get Samson, I promise."

Ben was worn out, confused, and thoroughly frustrated. But as he was muttering an oath, someone knocked on the trailer door.

"If that ain't Samson," he said irritably, "you send whoever it is!"

"Yeah, yeah." Ruthie got to her feet, looking distracted. She hurried to the door, and he heard a murmur of voices. Both female.

"Libby?" he asked. "Is that Libby? You send her!" But he knew as he spoke that they couldn't hear him.

He couldn't catch much of what they were saying, either. Just a few scattered words, like "all this time" - and "spoon feedin'," which made no sense at all.

Disgusted with his weakness, he began trying to roll over on his uninjured right side. That way, if they were standing in the doorway, he might at least be able to see them.

Ruthie's voice rose, and he heard her say something that sounded like "loose-id" - which couldn't be right, it wasn't any word he'd ever heard of - followed by "a half hour now!"

To which Libby replied excitedly, "I'll tell Samson!"

Ben made it onto his side. But after all that effort, he couldn't see the women, who were outside on the trailer steps. He focused instead on something hanging on the inside of the door. Blinking to clear his blurry vision, so he could see it clearly.

Libby said, " 'Fore I go, I gotta tell you why I came. I'm spreadin' the word 'bout some bad news that was on the radio. The Nazis just -"

But Ben never heard the words "invaded Poland." He'd already begun to scream - when he made out the date on the calendar.

September 1939.

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The End


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